Hell and Back
by whitetigerwolf
Summary: Sgt. Boris remembers his Kapitan's journey into Hell, and back out of it. T. One-Shot. Complete.


**I Do Not Own Black Lagoon**

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The man known as Sgt. Boris stoically and worriedly watched his Kapitan as she sat at her desk.

The head of Hotel Moscow wasn't looking at him, instead she had a glass in her hand, and a bottle of Vodka on her desk. It wasn't cheap vodka either, it was good, strong stuff. And while the blonde could put away a good deal of the liquid, she rarely drank so early in the morning.

That's what worried the former soldier.

He'd watched as the blonde woman before him had grown from a Junior Lieutenant, fresh out of training, into a Kapitan that led her mean through hell itself and brought them out alive. She was many things to him, amongst them was friend and commander, but in many ways, she was a daughter. He knew she knew of that view, in private she'd often joke about him being a worrisome father, especially when something had happened to her.

He still remembered when she had been captured by the Mujahideen. When she held off their attackers single handedly while the rest of the unit made their way to the extraction choppers, he had been proud of her, and in awe. Then she had given the order to the pilots to take off without her.

She had known she would likely die, and known that without cover fire, the choppers wouldn't get off the ground and her men would have died.

And then they'd found her, rescued her from two weeks of captivity.

It was he that had found her, burned, scared, and naked. It was he that had helped her dress, helped her preserve her dignity in front of her men. It was he alone amongst the men that knew the full extent of what had been done to her.

And when they had been honorably discharged, thanks to their Kapitan's sacrifice (she'd been stripped of all awards and honors she had earned to save her men from the dishonorable discharge they had earned for defying order's and rescuing her), he had gone with her, to watch over her. It was he that had seen her in pain, addicted to the painkillers to escape the memory of her captivity. It was he that had worked so hard to save her from herself.

He didn't judge the Kapitan for her weakness then. She had truly been in hell, and her reward was dishonor, haunted by nightmares. He'd been afraid that the strong woman that had saved them all had died in captivity. But he'd managed to pull her out of her self-destruction. And she had found a purpose, not just for herself, but for the men she had lead through and rescued from hell, the men she had sacrificed everything she had achieved for.

But still, the nightmares returned on occasion. And when they did, Boris always found her drinking the next morning. Throughout the rest of the following day, she would be easily irritable.

It was when she was most dangerous, prone to pulling the trigger quicker than she normally would.

Knowing better than to say anything, Boris stepped forward, drawing the Kapitan's sharp blue eyes to him. "Sergeant," she greeted.

"Kapitan," he returned, bowing his head slightly in respect. "Your orders?" he asked, per usual.

Leaning back in her chair, the Kapitan showed no weakness, despite her troubles, yet Boris, who knew her so well, could detect the slight edge in her voice that was usually absent. "Continue on with daily operations," she instructed. "And bring me the monthly reports. I might as well get a head start on them," she added with a sigh.

Boris knew how much she hated the reports she had to send Moscow, but their bosses in the mafia demanded it. They might fear Balalaika, but they figured that, half a world away, it was safe to annoy her, and in turn annoy her fiercely loyal men, by demanding reports on her profits.

They were, but only because Balalaika didn't wish to waste the effort and time necessary to kill incompetents halfway around the world.

There was a reason people claimed she could start and win World War III. Boris didn't know if they could actually win, but they could certainly start and survive World War III.

All because of Balalaika.

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 **So, this was actually meant to be the first chapter of a Harry Potter/Black Lagoon Crossover, but after writing it, I didn't feel it fit with my story, yet I felt it was too good to simply delete. Then, after reading through it again, I realized it would make an excellent Black Lagoon One-Shot.**

 **Anyway, Please Review, Check Out the Challenges in My Forums (Link on Profile), and Stories I have for Adoption under the Title:** ** _Please Adopt Me!_**


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